


Caramel Mocha

by IAmTheUnsub



Series: Reddie Au [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bakery and Coffee Shop, College AU, Dyslexic Author, Gen, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pre-Slash, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, dyslexic Richie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 02:14:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21438502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmTheUnsub/pseuds/IAmTheUnsub
Summary: Eddie thinks he's found his new go-to coffee shop in The Red Balloon. The only problem is that the hot barista keeps spelling his name wrong.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Reddie Au [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1545535
Comments: 26
Kudos: 484





	Caramel Mocha

**Author's Note:**

> Basically some angsty fluff with me projecting my dyslexia onto Richie.  
CW: Brief mention of Eddie having a panic attack and Sonia... being Sonia I guess.  
I’m open to prompts. Come at me 😂😊

The first time, Eddie hadn’t really cared. It was six in the morning and he had an essay to finish before his started class at nine, so he’d finished the coffee before he’d even noticed the messy scrawl on the side of the cup. _Eddy_. He’d shrugged it off and tossed the cup in the trash. The coffee was good, so he went back to _The Red Balloon _a few days later after his morning run. He was more awake this time, a little more put together. He was greeted by a cheerful voice when he got to the front of the line.

“Hey! Someone looks chipper this morning!”

Eddie looked up, confused for a second, before he realised that the barista behind the counter was the same one who’d served him before. He was tall, with dark curls pulled into a bun on the top of his head. His face was taken over by a broad smile and thick glasses. He was gorgeous, so of course Eddie had to be a sweaty mess. 

“Uh… yeah, sorry. I’m like a zombie before like eleven am”, Eddie replies, slightly embarrassed that he mustn’t even looked at the guy the last time he was here, he’d definitely remember that face.

The guy made a show of looking at his watch.

“Looks like I’m in luck then. Eleven-oh-five. What can I get you?”

“Um… just a regular latte”, the barista grins at him again.

“Really? Seems a little boring for you”, the barista looked pointedly at Eddie’s running shorts, red with a rainbow stripe. Eddie blushes and pulls them down a little in a futile attempt to cover more of his legs.

“What do you say you let me fix you something, on the house of course. If you absolutely hate it then I’ll get you your basic bitch latte”, the barista offers.

“I dunno…”, Eddie hesitates, knowing he won’t tell the guy if he hates the drink, too worried about insulting him.

“C’mon, I’ll even throw in a chocolate muffin to sweeten the deal”, the barista cajoles him.

Eddie finally agrees, his student budget winning out over his worries. Free food is free food.

“Do you need a name for the cup?” Eddie asks. The barista shakes his head.

“Nah It’s good. Eddie right?”, Eddie nods, fighting off a blush. The hot barista remembered his name.

He stands a few feet away from the counter and pretends to scroll through Instagram while he watches the barista work. He obviously isn’t being subtle enough because the guy is clearly showing off. He flips the whipped cream over his head and catches it in his other hand. Eddie runs through the steps to treat a head injury, visions of the barista braining himself with the heavy metal canister flickering through his mind. Thankfully, he doesn’t try the trick again, content with drizzling chocolate sauce on top his creation and topping it off with a handful of mini marshmallows. He hands it to Eddie with a flourish.

Eddie takes the sugary monstrosity, idly thinking about what his mother would say if she saw him drinking it, then he cautiously takes a sip. Under the barista’s watchful gaze, his eyes light up and he takes a bigger gulp. He licks the whipped cream off his top lip and smiles.

“What, and I cannot stress this enough, the fuck is this. And where has it been my whole life?”

The barista visibly relaxes, grin stretching impossibly wider.

“It’s a caramel mocha. Basically caramel, hot chocolate and coffee with a buttload of whip and chocolate drizzle”, he explains, complete with the hand motions of spraying whipped cream drizzling sauce, as if Eddie hadn’t just watched him do it for real.

“Well, it’s my new go to. Morning, noon, throw some vodka in there and I’ll drink it at parties”, the barista laughs at Eddie’s enthusiasm.

“Well, next time you’re here I’ll make you the iced version” the barista smiles and passes Eddie the promised muffin.

Eddie slips a five-dollar bill in the tip jar on his way out. Once he gets outside, he takes out his phone to take a photo of the drink, intent on converting Bill and Stan away from their cappuccinos. Only when his screen open to Snapchat does he notices his name on the cup. _Edi. _Damn it.

* * * 

“I want to drain all of my blood and replace it with this”, Eddie mumbles into his iced caramel mocha. He doesn’t realise he’s talking out loud until he hears the barista laugh at him. It’s the same guy again, Eddie had been lucky to get there when he had. The guys shift was ending in like five minutes and Eddie wasn’t sure he’d have the confidence to order an iced caramel mocha with whipped cream and marshmallows from the other barista working today, a gorgeous black guy with a thick book cracked open in front of him. Eddie had taken a peek at the book and it didn't even look like it was in English. Come to think of it, the guy was exactly Bill's type. Maybe Eddie would bring Bill with him some time. 

“I’m glad you like it. I call it the Richie special” the barista tells him, shrugging a leather jacket on.

“Richie?”, Eddie asks.

“That’s me”

Eddie is struck with the sudden realisation that he had never asked for the other man’s name.

“Oh my god!” Eddie exclaims.

“Just Richie is fine”, the barista, Richie, jokes.

“I feel like such an ass!” Eddie drops his burning face into his free hand.

“Dude, it’s chill. You’ve only been here three times and you’ve been decaffeinated and zombified for one of them”, Richie shrugs.

“I know, I just-” Eddie’s phone alarm starts going off, signalling that he has ten minutes to get to class.

“Duty calls?” Richie asks.

“Yeah, I’ve got class. Sorry! And thanks again! And sorry… again. Bye Richie!” Eddie slips another bill into the tip jar and heads to the front door. Richie gets there first, holding it open for him and waving him off.

Eddie’s slightly miffed when, sitting in class, he notices that his cup says _Edie._ But he guesses he doesn’t have a leg to stand on when he didn’t even know Richie’s name.

***

The next morning, Eddie gets his essay back. Well, more like his professor keeps him back and gives him a ten-minute lecture about reaching his full potential before handing him the red-covered papers. He goes on about how he knows Eddie is better than this and how, if he wants to make it through his pre-med programme, he needs to step up. Eddie hasn’t felt so small since he left his mother’s house. The professor isn’t even mean about it, but the disappointment in his tone is too similar to Sonia Kapsbrak’s.

Eddie finds himself in the bathroom fighting off a panic attack for a half hour after his professor finally dismisses him. He clutches his knees to his chest on top of the closed toilet, trying his best to ignore his mother’s voice ringing through his head.

_“I’m just concerned about you, Eddie-bear”_

_“You can’t be a doctor, Eddie-Bear. Hospitals are teeming with disease. You’ll get sick!”_

_“Eddie-Bear, you can’t live in dorms! You need to stay here where I can take care of you!”_

After a while of Eddie stumbling through the breathing exercises his councillor had taught him, he’s finally calm enough to leave the stall. He splashes water on his face and decided to head to _The Red Balloon_. A Richie special should cheer him up, along with Richie himself. 

*** 

“Hey! There’s my favourite zombie! How are you, Eddie?” Richie’s enthusiastic voice calls out to Eddie from over the heads of the unusually long line. Eddie glances at his watch.

“I’m good, man. Lunchtime rush, huh?” Eddie calls back.

“Yeah, the masses need caffeinated! You want your usual?”

“Yes please, Iced”

“One cold Richie special, coming right up… after these fifteen businessmen”, Richie gestures to them apologetically.

“I’m in no rush, man. Just call me when it’s ready”, Eddie reassures him.

Richie shoots him a thumbs up, so Eddie heads off to sit at a table by the window. He takes out his phone and feels any semblance of his newfound good mood evaporate. He has sixteen missed calls from his mother. He’d have to change his number again. He braced himself for the vitriol of her voicemails, but listened anyway, just in case there was an actual emergency.

He sat there for ten minutes, listening to her spout insults at him. She called him useless, ugly, unlovable. She accused him of abandoning her to die alone rather than take care of her. Then she switched back to sickly sweet assurances of wanting to take care of him, reminders to take the medication he’d flushed down the toilet at his first pit stop outside of Derry.

Eddie startles when a plate clatters onto the table in front of him. He swipes at his tear-filled eyes and looks up at Richie, who places his coffee down beside his chocolate muffin. Embarrassed at being seen in this state, Eddie focuses on his drink. He reaches for it to take a sip.

_Eddi._

“Are you fucking serious, Richie?”, he snaps at the barista. Richie looks taken aback, then examines the drink, looking for something wrong.

“What? What’s up?” he asks, concerned.

“You keep spelling my name wrong and I’m fucking sick of it! It’s Eddie! E-D-D-I-E! It’s not that hard! It’s five fucking letters, Richie! What are you, stupid?” Eddie’s chest was heaving by the time he’d finished his rant. Richie, for as tall as he is, suddenly looks two feet high. He’s hunched in on himself, eyes on the floor. He looks at the name on Eddie’s drink and then puts it back down on the table. When he speaks, it’s the quietest Eddie’s ever heard him. 

“…I'm not stupid. I’m dyslexic. Sorry. Vowels and repeated letters make it worse. I’ll just… I’ll have someone else make your orders from now on”

The blood drains from Eddie’s face. He opens his mouth to speak, but he can't find the words. Richie just turns and walks away. He goes right past the counter and into the back room. Eddie leaves his coffee and muffin on the table, drops a twenty-dollar bill into the tip jar, and walks right out the door.

***

Eddie caves after three weeks. He’s tried every other coffee shop within walking distance of his dorm, but not one of them was anywhere near as good as the sugary concoction he’d gotten at The Red Balloon. Eddie makes up his mind after his fourth shitty, burnt-tasting latte from Starbucks. He can’t take it anymore. And so he finds himself standing outside The Red Balloon at two in the afternoon. He’s hoping that Richie only works mornings.

He peeks through a window and isn’t sure if he’s relieved or disappointed when he sees a young, redheaded woman behind the counter. He goes inside anyway. When he gets to the counter he doesn’t know what to say.

“Uh… hi”, he starts awkwardly. The redhead looks him up and down.

“Eddie, right?” she asks, marker held at the ready, cup in her other hand.

“Um, yeah… Yes. How did you-”, She cuts him off, back turned as she makes his drink.

“Richie told me”, she offers flatly.

“Oh. How is he?”

She doesn’t answer. She puts his drink in front of him a little more forcefully than necessary.

“Four-fifty”, she holds her hand out, palm upturned. He drops a twenty-dollar bill into it.

“Just put the change in the tip jar”, he mumbles.

His drink has less whipped cream than Richie usually used, and there were no marshmallows. He looked at the name on the cup.

** _ E D D I E  _ **

***

The next time Eddie stops by The Red Balloon. He doesn’t order anything. He just hands another unfamiliar barista (a stocky blond guy) an envelope with Richie’s name on it, throws a few dollars in the tip jar and leaves again.

***

Two weeks later, Eddie is at the library pouring over his biology textbook. He’s given up on coffee altogether, but there are two empty cans of energy drink scattered amongst his notes. He’s trying to have a silent breakdown about his inability to grasp the inner working of the cardiovascular system when another sheet of paper is placed down over his textbook. He recognises his own handwriting and thinks someone’s picked up some of his notes off the floor or something. He starts to thank them when he reads the top of the page.

_Dear Richie…_

Eddie’s head shoots up, eye’s meeting Richie’s.

“Hi!”, Eddie’s voice is a little too excited, a little too loud. He gets shushed immediately. He blushes and quickly tosses his stuff into his backpack, grabbing Richie by the sleeve of his jacket and pulling him outside so they can talk freely.

“Richie, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you, I was having a really bad day and I didn’t know you were dyslexic but that’s no excuse!” Eddie’s rambling as soon as they’ve cleared the doors. Richie’s face splits into a grin that Eddie is embarrassed to realise he’s missed, despite having only seen it a handful of times. He smiles back cautiously.

“Eddie, It’s fine. You explained it all in your letter. Your mom sucks, your essay sucks, your professor sucks. It’s fine."

“It’s really not, I was awful to you”, Eddie mumbles.

“Well, that’s why I’m here. I want to start over”, Richie says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Start over?”

“Yup. Hi, I’m Richie, I’m dyslexic, I study theatre and creative writing with the help of some super cool spelling software and my endlessly patient friends as proof-readers. I also work at a little coffee shop. It’s called The Red Balloon, you might have heard of it,” He offers up one of the coffees that Eddie hadn’t even realised he’d been holding, too preoccupied with his face. Eddie takes it and savours his first taste of a Richie special in way too long. He moans appreciatively and glances up to see Richie looking at him expectantly.

“Oh, um. Hi, I’m Eddie. I’m pre-med, hoping to become a paediatrician and I’m prone to bouts of misplaced range, apparently”, Richie laughs so loudly that Eddie’s relieved they left the library, but he can’t help but join in.

“Yeah, I think I’ve solved that issue”, Richie gestures toward the cup.

Eddie examines it, puzzled. Then sees the name.

_Eds_

When he looks up from the cup, Richie is sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck.

“I just… You can tell me if you hate it. But it’s easier for me, you know? One vowel, three letters that are all different. Plus it’s kind of cute, so it suits yo-”, he cuts himself off, suddenly bashful.

Eddie just smiles at him, clutching the cup to his chest.

“No, this is fine. Eds is… Eds is good. Great actually”. 


End file.
